The Friar gave my nose a tweak,
Innocence to dispose,
Messiah’s appear twice a week,
Same man in different clothes,
And the bluebird swept those thorns away,
Stepped on everyone’s toes,
As the maid was in the garden,
Trying to pick herself a rose.

“Come in,” she said, whilst scratching me,
“Put your feet up by the fire,”
Her daughter in the room above,
Was burning with desire,
I said, “I can’t stay too long today,”
But that turned me to a liar,
She said, “that’s a shame, I was hoping we could
Take our friendship a little higher.”

And that’s easy for me to say,
The less fortunate have won,
Blessed are the meek, they say,
But those sayings are undone.
Those sayings are undone.

The portrait on the wall depicted
An old man, frail and grey,
I had a feeling in my soul,
That he’s seen much better days.
I mentioned, as we took a walk,
That I had something to say,
We crossed fields and rivers, roads and paths,
But never found our way.

Delirious with joy she sang,
“This little song’s for you,”
She sang “The Ballad of The Thin Man,”
And every word rang true,
Then the gamekeeper let two shots ring out,
That split the air in two,
We grabbed our things and disappeared,
As that sweet bluebird flew.

And that’s easy for me to say,
The less fortunate have won,
Blessed are the meek, they say,
But those sayings are undone.
Those sayings are undone.

That night I stopped in to a place,
To grab myself a beer,
When I sharp voice from the corner asked;
“What are you doing here?”
“Just stopped in for I drink,” I said,
“But if I offend I’ll disappear.”
He threw some money on the bar,
And whispered in my ear.

“The Friar and Messiah,
And the Maid you knew today,
And her daughter in the room above,
(She will be mine, some day),
And the old man in the portrait,
With his hair of silver grey,
The Gamekeeper, that bluebird and us,
We all will fly away.”

And that’s easy for me to say,
The less fortunate have won,
Blessed are the meek, they say,
But those sayings are undone.
Those sayings are undone.